"And make sure?"
"My boy, you are getting the hang of this. Now look – I don't have time to go to Epidaurus; it may turn out to be a wasted errand anyway. Why don't you send a runner to the Temple of Aesculapius, and order that whoever attended this man at the sanctuary gives us a formal statement?"
"I could summon them here." He had big ideas.
"Fine by me. I want to know. what was wrong with Opimus? Was his corpse examined thoroughly? Did the mode of death match his supposed illness? Were there any signs of interference… Well, you know the procedure." He knew nothing. I thought it unlikely anyone would ever come from Epidaurus. If they did, I would interrogate them myself. "Aquillius, are you visiting the group today? It would do no harm for you to let fall that I've asked you to arrange this. I'm not saying that anything bad happened to Opimus, but I would like them all to realise I intend to interview the priests."
"They have asked for me." Aquillius sounded gloomy. "I've had a rude summons from that tyrant Sertorius. Falco, they keep complaining."
"They are having a terrible time," I pointed out.
"Who told them foreign travel was fun?"
"I think you'll find," I explained drily, "it was Seven Sights Travel. Polystratus, their lying dog of a facilitator in Rome, when he took their bookings – and Phineus."
That was when the quaestor remembered to tell me his most important news. Phineus is back in Corinth. I have told him to contact you."
Now he had ruined my day.
I knew the agent would delay his appearance until it suited him. No point sticking around at the Elephant until Phineus bothered to call. I made Aquillius rack his brain for places where the man might hang out; then to make sure, when I set off to scour the drinking houses and markets, I dragged Aquillius with me. I like to provide training for government officials. Someone has to do it.
It was the first time Aquillius had ever worn out boot leather on a long seek-and-find. At first he thought it fun. Corinth was a mighty city, full of commercial crannies. By the time we two bloodhounds came upon Phineus, the quaestor had gained more respect for my tradecraft. He was moaning about lung failure. I too was blistered and bad-tempered, but after years at this game, I knew how to contain it. Anyway, I had to conserve energy. Finding Phineus was just the start for me.
Phineus was too Greek to be pure Roman and too Roman to be truly Greek. This wide-bodied heavy character wore a medium-length red tunic with sleeves; a glossy belt with a fat money purse on it; and battered boots showing huge calves and ugly toes. He had grizzled hair (once dark) and a short curly beard. Some things were as I expected. he was leaning on a bar counter among people who obviously knew him. He made his living as a man with contacts; it showed. He treated Aquillius Macer as one of his contacts, which disgusted me; I dispatched the quaestor to other tasks, just in case their relationship had moved from one of basic diplomacy to one with too much give and take.
"Nice boy!" Phineus spoke Latin, but in a deep Eastern voice.
"Very helpful," I agreed. If he had been bought by Phineus, Aquillius was an idiot. Phineus would be an idiot too, if he let me find out. He was too canny; that would never happen. But I reckoned that Aquillius was not bright enough to sell out. He would not even recognise a dirty offer. At least rogues like Phineus would not know what to make of him.
While I was eyeing up Phineus, he returned the favour openly. I refused to be put off and kept on looking. He was physically strong, a man who had put in hard effort of some sort. Impressive legs, and his right arm stronger than the other. Prosperity showed. He was better
groomed and more smartly turned out than many who arrange mules and ships. Even so, there was a well-worn air about him. He had three missing front teeth, though that applied to many people.
His survey of me would be equally two-sided. I was a Roman, but unlike most men who journeyed abroad, looked neither wealthy nor a slave. I had arrived with Aquillius, yet there was distance between him and me; I had given the order that sent Aquillius ambling off, which he had accepted as from an equal, or near equal. It would be clear I felt differently. When the amiable quaestor waved goodbye, I did not return his gesture.
I was wearing a loose brown tunic, good Italian boots, a belt with a Celtic buckle, a slightly fancy dagger in a Spanish leather scabbard. These were surface adornments; I came with more subtle trappings. skills which no slippery businessman should take for granted. I looked my age, thirty-five that year, and as tough as I would ever be. I had been around; I hoped it showed. I sported an Aventine haircut and an Aventine stare. I was ready for anything and would take no nonsense.
"So you are the special investigator!" Phineus said, keeping it light, keeping it well-mannered. "You are very welcome. I cannot tell you how glad I shall be when you solve what has happened and free us from its shadow."
He had to be a conniving rogue, yet he lied to me with sonorous, deep-voiced sincerity.
XXXI
I heard you had gone to Cythera."
– L "Oh – some other man took that group!" Phineus spoke dismissively; I could not decide whether he was looking down on the man, the group, or both. Maybe the other escort had pinched the Cythera commission from under Phineus' nose – and with it, the tips.
We were walking. The bar had been too intimate; neither of us wanted this conversation to be overheard by its nosy keeper and residents. Corinth had plenty of squares and colonnades to stroll in. We made our way to the main forum. It was so grandiose I for one felt anonymous there. But those multiple shops, arranged in neat sets of six or so, bunched along every facade of the frieze-bedecked piazza, could be full of ears. Corinth must have its version of Roman informers – if nothing else there would be street spies put in place to report to the governor on the activities of cults like the Christians.
"I need you to give me some background," I said.
"Background on my clients?" Phineus enquired meekly.
"On your operation first, please. How long have you been running these escorted trips?"
"Since Nero's Grand Your. That was the first big year for visitors; I could see things could only get better."
So he had been on the road with tourists for the past ten years. I put him at close to forty. "What did you do before that, Phineus?"
"This and that. I come from the south."
"Of Greece?"
"Of Italy!"
"I've been there." I had been to Croton, home of the original wrestling champion Milo. I found the south hostile to Romans, its towns full of staring eyes and resentful faces. Helena's first husband came from Tarentum and he was bad news. My tone automatically went sour. "What part?"
"Brundisium." A port. Always liable to produce men with low
morals. A major embarking point for Greece, however, so a good home for a man who had ended up arranging travel.
I gave up on his past. "Who decided to set up an overseas consultancy? Is the business yours, or do I need to know about higher management?"
"It's mine." He sounded proud. Judging by the current tour, customer satisfaction was not his goal. That saved him feeling depressed when he reviewed his lack of praise from clients; it was enough for him to count up his bank balance.
"You call it Seven Sights. So I guess you go to all of them?" I tried showing off. The Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Colossus of Rhodes, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon – you go to Babylon?" Phineus laughed contemptuously. "So you offer to go, and hope nobody asks for it… the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the Pharos and Library at Alexandria, the Pyramids and Sphinx at Giza."